Trepan
by Shadow Wasserson
Summary: A window into their thoughts.
1. Hey Gaster, How You Doing?

_A/N: Not my game._

* * *

 **Hey Gaster, How You Doing?**

It wasn't until after the Abomination showed up that the structure of the timelines began to change significantly. Shattering, splitting, looping, vanishing, restarting. It was a mess, and quite inconvenient to me. I still saw everything in them, all of them, but in the shifting splinters, I began to get... caught.

Little shards of timeline would 'catch' on pieces of me, trapping them in that place and time, like shreds of clothing caught on briars. Often, these pieces would rip free, and could not be retrieved easily. They were near-helpless on their own, only middling bits of soul, a random slice of personality and thought, bereft of context.

I was powerless to stop it. Ever so slowly, the shattering timelines were devouring my awareness.

Naturally, that wasn't the end of it. One particular piece was recovered by one of my fellow prisoners, but unfortunately he seemed somewhat obsessed by it, and would not return it. Irritating, but there was nothing I could do.

But sometimes, the Abomination would find them. I do not know how, but it could see me. Perhaps something to do with the nature of that creature's soul, or whatever it has in place of one. And when it saw a part of me, in an instant the quantum uncertainty of the fragment's position in place and time would collapse, ripping it free of its bounds and returning it to the Void.

Returning it to me.

Unfortunately, I was unable to _communicate_ with the Abomination, so any such meetings could only happen by chance. Still, in a nigh-infinite multiverse, the rate of fragment return was such that I did not dissolve completely.

When the human arrived, and awoke the demon, they could see the pieces too. They were responsible for the return of a rather large fragment that got trapped in an out-of-the-way cave. It was a large enough fragment that I was somewhat aware of it, and I was almost able to talk to them.

What? Sans? No, he was never able to see me. He remembered, but he could not see.

Perhaps that is for the best.


	2. Hey Sans, How You Doing?

_A/N: Not my game._

* * *

 **Hey Sans, How You Doing?**

Ever see one of those funny silhouette pictures? You know, the illusion with the vase and the faces...? Where if you look at the black, it's two faces lookin' at each other, but the white, the blank space, is just a conveniently-shaped vase?

It's like that. Remembering is like that.

Fuzzy shapes. Gaps. Outlines. A space where there used to be... something. Someone, maybe. Events, places, only remarkable because they don't exist. And it's not like there's anyone I could ask.

Yeah, I already asked her. She knows even less than me.

Anyway, there are clues. Objects, ideas, words with no source. Somethings from nothings.

There's the machine, the one in the back. I don't know how I got it, but I've figured out what it does, some of it. Gives readings, tracing the flow of time. Recording quantum splits. There's a lot of 'em out there, concurrent timelines, some natural, some not so much. Finding stable coordinates is pretty much random though, so it's mostly just useful for monitoring our own little pocket of quantum space-time.

Heh, look at me going off on that science-fiction stuff. I get kinda _starry eyed_ about it sometimes.

Hah.

There's also the CORE. The Corrosion Of Reality Engine.

What, did you think we were really getting near-infinite power for free? Every time we turn on the lights, it's glowing with the energy from the decay of a parallel universe. Apparently, parallel universes die all the time. So far as I know, the CORE doesn't _cause_ the destruction. Just skims bits off the wreckage. Maybe that's even true.

Anyway, I think I'm the only person who knows that's what it means.

Then there's that cipher. I can read it, and Papyrus can too. No one else. I don't remember learning it.

And finally, a hermetically-sealed drawer, full of documents. Photos of me with people I don't know. A few crude sketches. And journal entries, most of them in my own handwriting.

It's weird stuff, yanno? Feels like some kinda conspiracy. Could make a guy paranoid if he thinks too hard about it.

What do the journal entries say? Well... heh. Lots of stuff. All different stuff. Most of it conflicting.

 _'The king is dead, and the queen has returned. Says humans are to be treated as friends now.'_

 _'Queen Undyne has declared genocidal war on humans.'_

 _'Papyrus made friends with the human. I've never seen him so happy.'_

 _'The human killed Papyrus. I don't know why. I don't understand.'_

 _'Took the human out to Grillbyz. Everyone loves 'em. They went on a date with Papyrus, pretty sure it's not serious.'_

 _'The human arrived covered in dust. Not interested in puzzles. Told Papyrus to stay away. He didn't listen, but the human spared him and now he wants to be their friend.'_

" _Working for King Mettaton now. Paps likes the suits."_

" _Holed up in Hotland. Heard that in New Home there's riots every day. Not sure how much longer we can last like this."_

" _Moved to the Ruins to be with Tori. We understand each other."_

" _Papyrus crowned King. He's really trying. Still talks about the human. Don't have the heart to tell him. Or maybe I'm just too cowardly."_

 _''They're all dead. The world is probably gonna end soon, and so these will probably be my last written words. If anyone survives to read this, hope that I gave 'em hell.'_

...So, reading all that, what's a guy to think? They're all me, right? They're all real, all _were_ real. But they're not real anymore. Never even existed, now. Is that the same as being dead? Can you mourn a guy who no longer exists?

The truth is... slippery. It's like water, or sand, falling through the gaps in my hands. But it's there, somewhere, defined by what it _isn't._

Sometimes I almost see the shape of it. A face I can't remember. A voice I've never heard. The absence of the touch of a hand. A void, a shadow cast by something that's not there. Sometimes it feels like it touches the edges of everything, dark and silent.

Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in it.


End file.
